


Set the Night Aglow

by sheepfriend



Series: We All Have Our Demons [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Coping, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Polyamory, Pyromania, Realistic Minecraft, it's not as sad as the tags make it sound, slightly unfaithful representation of OCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepfriend/pseuds/sheepfriend
Summary: Sapnap has aproblem.His hands itch to light a fire, his heart aches to be helpful, to be more than just a burden.George doesn't know what's wrong, yet.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: We All Have Our Demons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005951
Comments: 9
Kudos: 465





	Set the Night Aglow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in years, I think, but my beta reader and partner in crime @CrappyRavioli is an excellent writer and I trust them with my life. This is technically a little fic inspired by the song Aglow by the Rare Occasions, but the idea has grown into so much more. (Oops!)  
> As is customary and true and good, disclaimer: Don't shove slash content on creators, even ones who are comfortable with it being made. Don't be weird! They're people, too, and this fic is written about their Minecraft personas. (Oof can't believe I, as a full adult, am here saying this.)  
> Anyway, enjoy! <3

It’s been a couple of weeks since they left the last village, and for the last couple of days, Dream, Sapnap, and George have been travelling through a hilly evergreen forest. It isn’t hard to pick through but the terrain makes it hard to discern where they’re going next. Winter is in full swing but it hasn’t snowed in a while, making travel easier even while trudging through the existing snow. The sun is setting from the white sky now, and there’s no sign of reliable shelter. They’ve been searching for kindling to start a fire, as their last reserve on Sapnap’s pack ran out yesterday. It’s going to snow tonight too; Dream can sense it in the wind, in the wet air, can see it in the halo of the moon.

When every twig they find is wet and rotten from snow, he starts to notice Sapnap’s frustration growing. His fingers twist and fidget, he talks less, his shoulders tense. Dream can practically hear the frantic internal monologue of the younger coming from just the way he chews his lower lip and stares down at his boots as they tear up the snow. Dream knows about Sapnap’s _problem—_ it’s a testament to Sap’s self control that George hasn’t found out yet, but Dream has a sense that is going to change soon. He thinks of himself as the leader of their little group and he’s determined to make sure his companions make it to tomorrow safely— physically and mentally.

Sapnap hates the winter. Things would be so much better if their quest didn’t require any urgency; he’d much rather be cozy in a cabin with George and Dream, a fire crackling in the stove to heat the place up. Sure, he doesn’t mind danger; he likes the adrenaline rush of adventure, but adventure is so much better when the weather isn’t looming over him, threatening to choke the life out of any one of them with a slow, agonising freeze. They’ve had no luck finding anything with which to start a fire, which means they can’t set up camp. By this point, he’s well aware that the stress of the situation is getting to him.

He can feel his anxious thoughts pressing louder and louder against his skull as darkness falls and their group still has no suitable tinder. Some nights, it’s avoidable, especially when his best friends are safe and happy, but being stressed makes his compulsion worse.

_Dream lets you scratch your itch because you’re so pathetic; he pities you because you just have to set fires or you fall apart. Pathetic. And now, now that they need the one thing you can offer, there’s nothing you can do. You’ve failed yourself and you’ve failed them._

The cold that bites his fingertips starts to burn in all the wrong ways as his thoughts hit him like a wave. He rubs them together hard enough to hurt in retaliation. If his hands could just stop wishing, stop reminding him of acute heat, if shoving them into his pockets would quell that smoldering desire, if only—

“A village!” George shouts.

True to his word, a warm glow in the valley below comes into view as the adventurers crest the hill. The streets are lit by simple redstone lamps, Sapnap notices, with slight dismay. He hears Dream sigh in relief and step forward to mutter something gently to George, who’s been walking a few feet ahead. With that, he falls back to talk to Sapanap as the oldest forges ahead. For a moment, his tension takes a backseat to watching his boyfriend eagerly scramble down the snowy slope. It’s an amusing sight; George slides a little and wheels his arms though he never falls. It reminds him of a puppy, excitedly hopping around on a crisp winter morning. 

“It’s going to be okay, after all,” Dream mutters to him in an even tone.

“I could have worked something out if you were so worried we’d freeze to death,” he says indignantly. With his free hand, the one not holding a torch, Dream reaches down and takes Sapnap’s hand in his. 

“I know you would have.”

The low glow of the redstone lamps does just enough to make seeing easy. Luckily, the area isn’t swarming with monsters and the village’s iron golem huffs lowly and shambles by without paying them any mind. A few minutes ago, George slipped somewhere into the close paths of the village, the others following more slowly behind. By the time Dream and Sapnap arrive on the packed-earth streets, the clouds have started to blanket the moon and the wind is picking up. They hear a door close around a nearby corner and a moment later, George pops into sight from around it. His cheeks are pink from the cold but his eyes are bright. 

“Alright, Dream. The best I got is the barn and this blanket.”

“Thanks, George,” the tallest man says fondly. He then tugs Sapnap forward by the hand, tossing his other over George’s shoulders— he put the torch out when they got into the light of the lamps. “Lead the way.”

Sapnap feels warm but still twitchy. The barn is a wonderful buffer from the wind, but it’s still cold. His boyfriends lead him up to the hay loft where they settle in to the sounds of cows and pigs below and the now howling wind outside. The three of them press together, sharing warmth under the too-small quilt the villager gave to George. It’s been a long day, one of the most difficult that the three of them had faced in a while, so it comes as no surprise that Dream and George fall asleep quickly. Sapnap wants so badly to follow suit, but his thoughts continue to swim urgently through his consciousness. Despite what he said to Dream, he doubts he could have actually done anything to save them on his own. Sure, they probably would have survived anyways, given how resourceful Dream can be when under pressure. The issue is on premise. It’s so much worse when he’s forced to confront the fact that his problem doesn’t even serve a purpose. Dream tries to convince him that it’s okay, looking at him with honey in his gaze when they’re alone in the woods, when Sapnap has just set up their campfire and Dream isn’t wearing his mask. _He only looks at you because his head is messed up from being around you for so long._

It’s still achingly cold, but his skin prickles like he’s standing feet from an inferno. Maybe he is, if his proximity to the conflagration in his brain counts. The discomfort leads him to roll away from Dream as gently as possible to get some space.

_If you just set a little fire outside… You’d stop feeling so tense. Just got to let off a little smoke. It’s not like Dream would disapprove._

He looks around in the dark as he processes the mental intrusion. He could just take a little bit of the dry, light hay for tinder… And the villagers must have some firewood in here. All he needs is one log anyways. With the interest fully given oxygen, he runs on autopilot, putting on his coat and boots, then grabbing his flint and steel and a bundle of hay before descending the ladder from the loft. True to his suspicions, there’s some firewood being stored in the barn and he grabs one wedge, feeling its rough edges threatening to splinter his skin.

It would feel so good to just get the desire out of his system and eventually settle back into the hay for some much-needed sleep with the men he loves. Some of the cows huff hot air at him as he passes and he’s calm enough now to notice that they’re quite cute. Outside, the wind is biting; it’ll devour his flames before they’re born if he builds in the open like he wanted to. With a bit of frustration, he finds a building with no windows on the side that’s protected from the wind and sets up within the perimeter of its protection. When he scrapes the surfaces of the flint and steel together, he notices the slight tremble of his fingers. _Oh, well._ It takes a few tries to successfully light the hay with the sparks, but he’s experienced and they eventually cooperate with his efforts. Just the warmth from the dancing flames comforts him. After properly lighting the log on the bed of hay, he takes a moment to crouch down in the snow and breathe the smoke as deeply as he can without coughing. 

_You’re a freak, but at least you’re satisfied,_ comes a familiar tone that he can’t help but agree with. 

It’s chilly in the barn, even pressed against Dream’s chest, his strong arm draped protectively over George. He’s big and runs warmer than George does, but it’s not enough, and the chill has woken him up. It’s a nuisance, but nothing too unfamiliar. On some nights like this, he gets up and rearranges their sacred sleeping order to lie between Sapnap and Dream— Sapnap doesn’t mind being half-roused to roll over and let George be middle spoon; he tosses and turns so much anyways that there might be plenty of space between him and Dream without George even waking him. Not that George does so often because Dream, for all his grandeur, loves the comfort of being in the middle and it obviously means a lot to him.

He waits a few more minutes in the near-pitch blackness of the barn, staring blankly at the hay, the wall, listening to the sharp symphony of winter outside in some lingering hope that he’ll slip back off without having to move. Sleep never takes him, despite being dead tired, so he sighs and gently worms out from under Dream’s arm. The blond mutters softly but barely stirs, which is both cute and a relief. The moment he elevates himself off the hay, however, he notices Sapnap is gone. George, his mind still sleep-sluggish, cycles through a few sets of thoughts all at once before organizing them.

To start, Dream and Sapnap sometimes leave bed. Dream does so most often; when sleep comes easily to him, it’s a blessing and George hates to disrupt that. So this is not an immediate indicator that something is terribly wrong. Secondly, while he does not yet fully understand what sometimes afflicts the youngest of their group, he isn’t blind or dumb. He knows that Sapnap was stressed out over something tonight. He gets like that sometimes, withdrawing and fidgeting and muttering to himself. It’s unfortunate that the exhaustion from their taxing day in the snowy forest couldn’t override those pains, he supposes. The final addendum he parses through is that despite the relative normalcy of the situation, the night is volatile right now. The wind wails louder than it did when he first fell asleep and with any luck, Sapnap is just down the ladder and not outside. If he’s outside… George would have to go bring him back. _Maybe, just maybe,_ he thinks, _you’ll finally get the chance to learn what’s on your boyfriend’s mind without Dream stepping in first._ He wants to do something for Sap for once. It’s selfish, maybe, but he wants to _understand._

A light worry washes through his limbs, galvanizing him to move. He puts on his coat and boots as well as the knit hat and scarf he recently acquired. Ready to face the cold, he carefully exits the barn. Snow has fallen and continues to fall and for a moment, the worry under George’s skin turns to panic. He scans the landscape for any sign of where Sapnap went, panic mounting as his mind supplies images of the younger man, skin purpling, life being frozen out of him after going off to mope. He starts running through the village, unable to call out, barely aware of his surroundings. He’s shivering, but his heart is in his throat, pounding incessantly, overriding his senses. Then, he sees it. A light ahead, much brighter than the dim copper glow of the lamps.

There, behind a modest house, is Sapnap nursing a modest fire, back mostly turned to George. All at once, his irrational panic leaves him. He stops without thinking and just watches for a moment. _A fire? In this weather? Why would he leave bed just for a fire?_ Despite his latent curiosities, a particular feeling creeps into his throat. It’s hard to place. 

Sapnap always lights their campfires. It’s always been that way, ever since George started travelling with the other two. No one has ever given him a straight answer as to why that is and Dream got very cross with him the one time he tried to pick a harmless fight with Sapnap over the responsibility. Things are slowly coming together, though.

“Sapnap?” he calls into the wind. 

The younger startles and then deflates. It takes a moment before he responds, “Hi, George.” His voice is soft like it rarely is. His eyes scan over George’s slight frame, bundled in layers, chest heaving as he pants the stinging cold air. “Are you okay?”

He’s sure that his face is dumbstruck, gaping like a fish. The question seems so _absurd_. “Am _I_ okay? I- uh- Are _you_ okay?”

Still crouching in front of the flames, Sapnap responds, “yeah,” with a casual conviction. Like it’s the kind of truth you have to accept despite the odds. Resigned but sincere.

George contemplates the best approach. Perhaps this is a rare moment for delicacy on his part. “Can I, uh, sit with you?”

“There’s not much place to really sit, but knock yourself out.”

With the affirmation, George brushes some of the snow away from the ground close to the fire. It’s beginning to melt and he hopes the ground underneath is still frozen to keep his trousers minimally muddy. Either way, he knows his priorities and kneels on the winter soil next to where Sapnap crouches. After a moment, the other follows suit. It’s a good sign— he looks less like he’s going to bolt. For a few frigid minutes, they are silent. The crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind take the place that their voices would have held. Admittedly, there’s something lovely about the contrast between the violently cold night, in all its strangulation of life, and the fire, which is small, vibrant, and warm.

“I was really worried about you. When I saw you weren’t in bed anymore.”

Sapnap’s breath comes out in a gentle gasp. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I know. It’s fine. I’m happy you’re… okay.” George still isn’t sure if he believes that Sapnap is okay, but it would be too heavy to substitute it with _alive_ out loud. It’s time to figure out why, though, if the other will let him in. “Can we talk about it?”

The younger nods resolutely, mouth drawing into a firm line. After a shaky inhale, Sap says plainly, “I’ve got a… ‘problem.’ It’s just a thought, or thoughts, I guess, I can’t control.” He picks up some momentum after this. “I want to start fires. Or some part of me does. When I’m upset, especially when it would be helpful to actually light one, the impulse gets stronger. Problem is, not being able to makes me more upset,” he scoffs. 

George watches his partner’s breath puff into the air, mixing with the smoke let off by the bonfire. He waits, then asks, “Dream knows?” despite already knowing the answer. 

“Yeah.” The response is a low whisper.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been any help.”  
“There’s no way you could have, George. Yeah, Dream’s there for me, but it’s just pity. I can’t change this.”

Cautiously, George reaches out to rest his hands on Sapnap’s shoulders. “I can help you now. I want to be here for you, Sap.” He takes some time to think before he speaks next. “We can’t make it go away, but I don’t pity you, now that I know, and I doubt Dream does either.” It’s not perfect, it’s not everything he thinks the other needs to hear, but it’s all he feels will fit into the tentative bubble of gentleness between them. He wraps his arms fully around familiar broad shoulders, praying that his hug can somehow alleviate the alienation his love is feeling. Maybe it does, because Sapnap eases fully into the embrace and lets out a watery giggle. 

“You’re so _emotional,_ Georgie.” Hearing the taunt does more than any raw reply would have to reassure the older that his comfort was somewhat effective. 

“Somebody has to be.”

Under the winter stars, just the two of them, they cling together like always, desperate to just be there for the other. 

“Right now isn’t a bad time to kiss you, right?” the younger chuckles meekly. If his cheeks weren’t already battered from the temperature, George is sure they’d go red at the sweetness of the other.

“Of course not, idiot. You can always kiss me.”

George’s lips and nose are cold on Sapnap’s face, but the comfort of the contact makes him sigh. He feels like he’s burning in open air finally, after being smothered for so long. He brings his hands, no longer shaking, up to his boyfriend’s soft, chilly cheeks. When he pulls away, he sees a few smudges of ash on the pale skin. 

“Do you want to stay out longer?” He asks, accent lifting the words in a gentle way that Sapnap loves, for all his teasing. The younger glances over to his dwindling bonfire, then back at George.

“Nah, I’m cool now. Help me put this out?” 

“Sure.” George squeezes his hand and stands up, pulling Sapnap after him. Together, they push heaps of quickly-falling snow up onto the fire, smothering most of the flames. The embers that remain, Sapnap grinds into the mud with his boot. When they’re satisfied with their results, they head back to the barn, hands clasped. Once finally out of the sharp winds, George turns to face Sapnap again.

“I’m glad I know now. Just let me know what I can do for you.” He chews on his lip, then whispers again. “Why didn’t Dream ever let me know?”

It’s not like Dream ever told Sapnap that, but he knows it wasn’t malicious. “I think he’s just protective. He’s the first person who ever helped me deal with it, as it developed. He thinks everything is his responsibility, you know?” 

“Do I ever.”

“Are you mad at him? ‘Cause if you are, it’s on me, too. I could have just told you sooner.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, because he didn’t want to tell anyone to begin with.

“Maybe I am, on premise, but I’ll forgive you both. I’m just going to give him a hard time for a couple days,” George smirks.

“Bullying Dream? I’m in if you’ll have me.” He says it with a smile he knows George can’t resist, and the matter is settled.

As they settle back in, neither says anything when George changes their regular sleeping order and lies on the other side of Sapnap, intent to let him know that he is loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> This fic sprouted a whole series idea about the boys in this universe dealing with their personal demons and helping each other through them. Expect a oneshot for both of the others in the future :)


End file.
